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Interesting change of events! Once again, KiyoKyo, you prove yourself a writer capable of taking on any challenge. I had no idea you could pull off a short-term mystery as well....
-LD

Seventeenth Movement: The Seeking Glass

The hills of Eastern Tennessee, 1948...

"Where... are... we... going...?" Hallie asked the woman called Rozalina, who had taken her under her wings in the past year. The high society lady had brought Hallie to posh hotels in the city, given her the nicest food, cleaned and dressed and imparted as much refinement to the little girl as money could buy. Hallie was unsure what happiness must be, but she was certainly not suffering any longer. She feared the day when the Red Bird would come to take Rozalina away too. Maybe that's what love was--the fear of being without a certain person.

"To help someone else. The same way I helped you, I want to help someone else who is in great pain now." Rozalina explained. She was a picture of calm nobility, sitting in the car and smoking quietly some strong smelling herb from a long pipe. Only her crimson red painted lips were ever seen beneath the black veil and black-velvet-ribboned wide hat she wore.

Though Rozalina's image must have been foreboding to the commoners in the American cities, the little white haired, pale faced girl in the peach-colored dress already felt at home beside the elder woman wrapped in dark cloth, shadows, and secrets.

"Why... did... you... help... me?" The little girl's slow question finished itself. It was something Hallie had wanted to ask, but had not yet worked up the courage to face her mysterious benefactor with.

Rozalina simply turned a page in her book, inhaling and exhaling another breath of thick smoke. The girl had not yet seen her eat or drink, and presumed at this point the woman lived by the smoke of the strange herbs in that ornamental long pipe. When no answer came, Hallie turned back to her window and watched the countryside pass by. When the woman in black decided not to answer a question, she did not make any effort to skirt around it--she merely ignored the question, as though her denial of its asking would cause the wonder that bred it to vanish.

Hallie was a smart girl, for despite her slow words and clumsiness with numbers she had learned a good bit of wisdom in this world. She knew better than to question her good fortune unnecessarily. Gradually she had taken to asking her mysterious new guardian less and less about herself.

"Will... the... red... bird... come... back?" Hallie asked, a little flicker of fear in her blood-red eyes.

"Not until you call him, dear." Rozalina turned away from her book for a moment. "He wants to help you, just like me." Her red lips curled into an enigmatic smile. "I'm just a bit less conventional. Ah, the sun is so beautiful today, isn't it?"

Hallie followed the inclination of her chin out the window, and looked straight into the afternoon sun, bright and white and glistening. It gave her a warm feeling. She used to watch the sun all the time on the playground, when the other children turned her away she would sit and stare at it. It did not burn her bloodshot eyes. Instead, it gave her a kind of warm, calm feeling.

The car stopped at last, in a small berg in a valley between three majestic mountains dressed with a verdant cloak of trees. The small road ran through the town and onwards through the Appalachians. Birds called freely over the misty mountains, but after that, there was little else in the way of sound.

The small village was in ruins. It must not have been a long ago incident, for the smell of smoke still hung in the air. It was an acrid, foul-smelling smoke. A painful smoke--not like the pungent, sweet smoke from Rozalina's pipe. It was the kind of smoke that always accompanied the coming of the Red Bird to burn away another piece of Hallie's life.

"I'm... scared..." The young girl pressed herself against the woman, trying to stay as close as possible as they stepped out of the car and walked through the town.

"There's never an opportune moment for fear." Rozalina walked on at her usual pace. She seemed to float as the hem of her skirt dragged along the ground, never rising or falling. A fur-lined shawl was held over her chest by a jeweled clasp, and she wore a tight-fitting top which merged into a skirt which curved around her hips and tapered down at the knees, then back out over her feet. "Come forth! Show yourself!" She called out imperiously.

There was no motion for a few minutes, but then a horrible cry like a great dying beast erupted through the air. A sound came from one of the buildings ahead of them--a sound like someone moving, crashing, and smashing through stones and rubble.

The cry echoed again, and finally the figure who had produced it emerged for Rozalina and Hallie to see. It was a young boy, or it must have been--he was so inhuman in his movements that they were forced to guess from his stature alone. He had long brown hair which had grown to the length of about a foot, and which fell straight over his face. A single, menacing glow of red was visible from beneath that matte of hair. The boy's body was bent and tensed. His clothing--that of the Native American tribes by look--was stained with human blood and smelled of ichor.

In his two hands he wielded a large blade of red and black metal, twisted together into a wicked-looking instrument the boy seemed to carry as though it were a feather. In fact, from his posture and mode of walking, Hallie could almost wonder who was carrying who--the boy or the sword.

He threw his head back and let out an unearthly scream. Hallie had to hide her eyes from the sight of him. He was hideous to behold, covered in dirt and blood. Rozalina's posture did not change.

"You're Midland... and Marduk." Rozalina took another puff of smoke, her expression ever a mystery. "I've been looking for you for quite a while."

The boy just let out another guttural cry and charged forward, pulling the blade back high over his head and leaping to bring it down over her head.

As he fell from his leap, Rozalina stepped to the side and lifted her left hand. With a clang like steel upon stone, the blade stuck fast in her clenched fist. She gave a swift shake of her wrist, and sent the boy flying in one direction and the sword in another. There was silence for a moment, then a sobbing sound from the boy, lying in a puddle of mud and filth where he had landed.

Rozalina walked toward him and proffered a hand. He took it, after a few more moments of sobbing, and she lifted him to his feet. He was no less dirty or smelly than before, but an aura of malice seemed to have lifted from him. Rozalina brushed back the hair coating his dirty face to look into his features.

As his clothes had suggested, he was Native American by birth, and had one handsome, dark left eye. The entire right side of his face was covered in strange scar tissue--lacerations that left a coat over the face as though he had been horribly burned. Veins visible beneath the skin pulsed, and let out a faint glow. This corruption of the flesh had reached his right eye as well, and it was now merely a red glow inset in his face. Hallie clung harder to the skirt of Rozalina's dress, frightened by his appearance.

"You've suffered much." The woman in black spoke to the boy, now silent with wonder. "But I'm here to protect you from Marduk now. Can you speak your name to me."

"I am..." the boy's voice was the cracking picture of adolescence, "my name is Midland."

"Good, now, let's head home." Rozalina led him and Hallie back to the waiting car. "From today on, you'll be a part of our little family." After the two teenagers were safely seated, Rozalina went back to the sword, thrust blade-down into the earth where it had fallen, and picked it up, wrapping it in a heavy linen cloth. Having placed the weapon in the trunk of the car, she sat back down and nodded to her servant. The driver set his foot upon the gas, and they sped off towards the West.

* * *

Villa Vivikadvra, Suceava County, Romania, 1950...

Soft light from six large braziers filled the foyer of Villa Vivikadvra, accenting the chanting that filled the room with a mystic, arcane feel. Standing in the center of the floor was Cosette Garidion, dressed in a white, flowing ceremonial gown. Her arms were outstretched to the sides, palms up, head back as she chanted quietly. Narshe, Malgrave, and Hylie watched quietly from the side of the room. It had been several hundred years since a Moving Ceremony was performed--it was a sight they were not likely to see again.

Cosette spun on one toe back, and forth, facing each brazier in turn and muttering some secret words of power that, even after being heard, would not deign themselves to hang in the ears, and became forgotten instantly. The braziers began to flash strange colors, blazing up into columns of black, violet, green, blue, and other fantastic colors as she touched each one once. At last, the girl stepped forward, and placed a single finger upon the mural map at the far end of the foyer. The torches picked up in intensity, and soon their lights began to fill the room, and the house, washing in and through and around each crevice and corner in the house. Once the colors had become so large and intense that they became a total wash of blinding white, there was a heavy crashing sound, like a tree being torn out at its roots.

As the lights subsided, Cosette let out a sigh of relief. Narshe was quick to bring her a chair, and Malgrave offered a chalice of some foul-smelling potion. Hylie stacked the braziers and their stands, carrying each in one hand, and set off to go deposit them in the basement.

"It will restore your humours, Lady Garidion..." He hissed, urging her to drink. Though the smell of it was repulsive, it had a sweet taste, and in moments she was feeling back to her usual self. "So that we can be off to meet the society."

"Society?" Cosette's eyes widened. "What society?"

"I took the liberty," Malgrave explained, "of informing the Elders in Ziphlin of your intended move. They referred us to a loyal faction here, the Occidental Occultist Society, with which we have a scheduled audience."

"And you felt no need to consult me?" Cosette had recovered perhaps too quickly for Malgrave's taste, for he retreated at her reprimand.

"I felt no need to trouble you with such trivialities, milady." Malgrave offered, regaining composure. "Naturally your mind was heavy with other matters than your well-being and safety in the New World." He finished, to make a point.

There was a knock on the door. "It seems they've even sent an escort." Narshe mused.

As she pulled back the door of the old mansion, light flowed in from the bright Chicago sun, blazing off of the remnants of last night's snowfall. Though it had been evening in Romania, the sun was just rising up here. Villa Vivikadvra seemed to have found a place somewhere on the outskirts of the main town, on a little hill overlooking the bay. A small cemetery sat to the other side, and that gradually fell off into a thick, dark forest. It was a good spot, Cosette had to admit.

A young man stood in the doorway, gazing in excitedly at the room beyond. He had out a small notebook, and seemed to be writing down little things as he observed the place through large glasses. Narshe looked down at him through her own square glasses and beckoned him come in.

"Oh, oh, thank you, Majesty. Or is it Highness? Or do you prefer 'Black Empress' only? They didn't really tell me too much of what to expect back at the society." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the direction from which he had come. Scurrying inside, he bowed on one knee to Narshe.

"Ah, such honors. I expected the Americans to be far more crass." Narshe smiled down to the man. "You may simply address me as 'majest--

"I'm the Black Empress." Cosette's voice called from around her wing-backed chair, which was set off to the side of the room, and outside the field of view of the man who had been standing outside.

"Eh?" The man looked back quickly. He had a kind of quirky air about him. Brown hair was plastered down under a bowler cap, and small, mousy features punctuated his angular face. Short and wiry, he was bundled up to a rather thick degree to escape the cold outside. Feeling the draft of Illinois air beginning to creep in, Cosette shivered and realized that she too had a change of wardrobe to look into soon. Seeing that Cosette was the better dressed of the two, the man realized his mistake, tipped his hat in an apology to Narshe, and performed the same bow at Cosette's feet.

"And your name?" She asked, looking down with a critical eye at American fashion.

"Highness, I'm Arrant Young, a scholar of American magic." He bowed lower.

"And what's that?" Cosette's eyes moved down to his notebook and pencil.

"This?" He looked around, then to the notes. "Ah, notes for my next book, Majesty. I've just published one--The Master Book of Candle-Burning. Perhaps you've heard of it? It's all about the African American magical tradition in the south. They can do some damn amazing things when they combine the spells they brought from Africa with the mysticism of the Native American islanders. Damn amazing. Oh, but forgive my language in your majesty's presence." Young rambled, then apologized, then looked sheepish.

"I can't say I've heard of the work." Cosette shrugged, then realized that she would probably be seeing a good deal of Arrant and his companions. Best to make a good first impression. "But if you can secure me a copy, I will make a point of browsing through it." Narshe smiled. She had done something right, apparently.

"Oh, what an honor! A true leader you are! But please, please, I'm holding you up. If your highness is ready, we'll be off. The men at the society are all expecting you any moment!" Arrant scribbled a few more notes into his book. "We have a carriage waiting right outside. It's close by, and cars don't agree too well with this kind of weather."

"I think we can be off." Cosette nodded slightly to agree. "Narshe, Malgrave, do look after the mansion? I'll take Hylie--as a protective measure."

"Of course, mistresssss." Narshe cooed. "And you can come to visit anytime you like." She smiled a sultry smile at Arrant, who blushed. "I'm quite interested in these Native magics you're studying."

"Take your coat, milady." Malgrave offered her a heavy fur coat which her mother used to wear in winters. "It would be a shame to see you catch cold so soon after arriving."

And so, draped in furs, with Hylie and Arrant at her side, Cosette set off for her first interview with the Occidental Occultist Society.

The horses of their carriage whinnied to a halt outside a large, institutional auditorium in what appeared to be a college campus. A sign out front read in large letters: M. L. Theological School. Below that, a second, more temporary sign read: Meeting Today: Occidental Occultist Society.

"It's not a secret society?" Cosette asked, looking quizzically at the sign.

"There's no law against practicing magic--in fact, we have laws to protect us, these days." Arrant laughed. "I suppose it's not as progressive where you come from, eh?"

"Don't the non-magic using populace find it troublesome when you summon demons or conjure flames or go about your daily business using magic?" Cosette's eyes were a bit wide.

"Oh my, heavens yes they would! Do they do that kind of thing in Europe?" Arrant asked. "The American magical tradition is much more... er, subtle. A bit of hair, a small chant and a burning candle three hundred miles away, and you can guarantee that the target of your spell will suffer a perfectly natural consequence, with almost no indication that magic ever took place."

"Fascinating..." Cosette was suddenly plotting ways to get one of Lydia's or Etlinde's hairs.

"At any rate, everyone will be waiting for us, so if you and your servant will head for that door there..." Arrant pointed, closing up the carriage door and paying fare.

Cosette headed over towards the entrance to the auditorium, now realizing that it was some sort of cathedral. She had expected some sort of reception, but the place seemed quiet. There was some excited sounds coming from the inside, however. Hylie pushed at the door.

"You can enter? I thought holy places were off-limits." Cosette looked at her servant.

"This place isn't holy. It's been desecrated." Hylie turned back, just as Arrant approached.

"Well, eh, shall we?" Arrant pushed open the door, ushering Cosette and Hylie inside.

There was silence within the chapel, and every eye turned to the three of them. About a hundred men and women of varying descriptions stood in the chapel, nervous looks upon their faces. Cosette looked from face to face, then down the aisle of the chapel, until her eyes caught the source of the silence.

A woman's body was lying face down before the altar of the chapel. She was wearing a white dress, stained red with blood. The visible parts of her body were gashed apart and lacerated as though she had been slashed apart by a hundred knife strokes. There were little whispers here and there throughout the chapel.

"What... is this?" Cosette turned to Arrant, a dark look crossing her features.

"Milady, you've approached us in a moment of weakness." A man approached her from behind. From his odd clothing, Cosette guessed he must be the leader of the society.

"How do you explain that? Is this some American tradition?" Cosette looked at the body, and stood as though to make an announcement. "Contrary to anything you may have heard, human sacrifices do not commonly accompany the reception of the Black Empress--in any society."

"It's a murder." Arrant noted. "There have been a series of serial murders around this area. That's why the college rented this chapel to us so cheaply on weekends."

"We were as unfortunate as you to stumble upon her." The chairman explained, shifting his glasses. In the dim light, the reflection off of the lenses obscured his eyes. "But if we report the murder, suspicion will fall on us."

"Ah... I see. So we can get away with magic, but not murder." Cosette put her fingers together, and they brushed against the heavy fur coat she was wearing. She realized that she could get used to fur. "Well, well... matters like these are easy to get to the bottom of. Get up." She commanded, pointing a finger at the slain woman's body.

The American mystics gasped as the woman's body shuddered and picked itself up, walking over to bow before Cosette unsteadily.

"Who slew you?" Cosette asked the woman's corpse.

The revenant stood and pointed back towards the end of the chapel, and then slowly upward. Her finger rested upon the stained glass window of the cathedral. "Glass..." she spoke a single word.

"Glass?" The corpse made no more sound, despite her request. A spirit's memory is thin, after all, she reasoned. It was beyond her to return this woman to the living, unfortunately, and she was not comfortable enough in her new home to begin releasing living dead out onto the streets. "Back to the afterworld with you then." The empress made a brushing motion with her hand. The woman's corpse dropped back to the ground once more, lifeless. As she did, a tension seemed to release in the room, and there were hushed whispers and gasps of awe among the onlookers.

"Why the surprise? Is this not a magical society?" Cosette asked.

"It is... we are not accustomed to seeing vulg--" he stopped and corrected himself, "--classical magics performed so... freely."

"I see." Cosette smiled calmly. "I desire to see such things become more commonplace. A magician must set himself apart from and above the mundane society to realize his true powers. This is the tradition of the Renaissance Empire. But now... the window... I've become curious about the affair."She mused, looking at the stained glass ornament. It depicted a man and woman--perhaps Adam and Eve, reaching upward to a light from heaven. A lattice of roses outlined the window's central image. "Who crafted this?"

"Ah!" Arrant exclaimed, "I was here the day they put it in. I know the crafter, actually."

"Oh really?" Cosette was intrigued. "Do tell me all about it."

"Well, it's funny she'd say 'glass', because the man who made the window was Derrick Glass. He's from an old glass-making family that immigrated here several hundred years ago, or so the sign in his shop explains." Arrant noted, "Well, Derrick was distraught the day he came in to place the window, as I recall. His wife had just died, in an accident at the factory where she worked nearby. He could barely bring himself to put the thing in the wall. The college was lucky he made it the week before, or it would never have been done."

"And where is he now?"

"No one's seen a trace of him for a month now. And then the murders started... this is the third young woman now that we've found near this very chapel. I never thought to put the two together, but now that I look at it..."

"It does seem there could be some connection." The chairman mused, over the whispers of the other society members. "Despair can drive men to the darkest of deeds."

"And speaking of dark deeds..." Cosette wagged a finger, "there's not many cases of repeated killings that don't involve some form of Black Magic. Since we, the civilized users of magic, and I should think, guardians of its sacred order and proper use, are privy to such things, it should fall to us to resolve it, no?"

"If that is your majesty's wish." The chairman nodded. Several voices gave assent.

"Yes... I think it is."

* * *

The house of Derrick Glass was a storefront with a small apartment overtop. Hylie placed a hand over the door, melting the locks away with a touch, and led the way in, ready for anything to jump at a moment. The place was not lit, and there were no signs that the small shop had been open or lived in recently. At Cosette's direction, Hylie led the way up the stairs of the well-swept shop and into Derrick's own apartment.

The electric lights clicked on at Cosette's touch, and revealed a small, three room flat consisting of a kitchen and dining room, living room, and bedroom with a small bathroom attached. The place smelled a bit, due to the unwashed dishes in the sink and some trash which had not been disposed of. Clothes littered the floor.

On a closer inspection, Cosette and Hylie could see in the living room several scraps of paper, surrounded by what appeared to be bits of candle.

"The place seems empty." Hylie scowled. She had been hoping for something to smash.

Cosette picked up a sheet of paper from the ground. On closer inspection, it appeared to be torn from some book. She looked at the crumpled page's heading, "The Master Book of Candle-Burning. Chapter 10: On the Recalling and Sealing of Souls. This is the book that Arrant wrote..." She mused, then looked at the diagrams and instructions on the page. "This American magic is quite a different breed. I don't recognize any of these symbols."

"So what do you want to do?" Hylie was searching through the cabinets of the house. This endeavor had rewarded her with a bottle of American whiskey, which she bit open in a crack of breaking glass and began to drink.

"We should ask Arrant himself about it." Cosette looked at the page darkly. "He's the expert."

* * *

Waiting outside by the carriage was Arrant Young, who looked rather astonished when Cosette presented him with the better part of Chapter 10 from his book.

"What's this about?" The girl demanded.

"You... you found this inside?" Arrant asked, bewildered. "It's... this is a section on recalling spirits. But it's mostly theory, really. An old Hoodoo Doctor in Louisiana taught me about it when I was doing research, you see. He explained that with a certain powerful object, and a blood sacrifice, one could create a kind of dreamworld--a place between life and death, where the departed could meet."

"Ah... so the picture becomes clearer." Cosette mused.

"Clearer? Itsh all sheeming fushy to me." Hylie had a distant look in her eyes as she finished eating the glass bottle. "Doesh America ushually get fushy thish time of day?" She tripped towards the carriage, earning a death-glare from her master.

"But what of the murders?" The empress asked. "How often does one need to perform this sacrifice?"

"It should only be once... but again, it's just theory." Arrant said nervously. "By god, I couldn't be partly responsible for something like this... could I?"

"In this connected world, everyone is party to everything." Cosette got into the carriage. "That doesn't make you to blame though. It was Glass's folly that led to this. Quick, we need to get back to the society. That passage you explained reminds me of something all too familiar."

* * *

The doors of the society's chapel creaked open. However, rather than the chapel interior that was to be expected, the chamber opened into a field of pastel-shaded grass and trees. Everything was flat. It was a world shaped only of planes and angles, each colored and outlined and set in place.

Cosette and Hylie and Arrant stood alone in this world. It must have been the world of the glass window, from the look of it. Somewhere in the distance, Cosette thought she could see a young man and woman walking through a field of roses. Apparently Derrick had found his dream here--at the price of another's life.

"Wha... what is this?" Arrant was astonished, and reached for his notepad.

"Just look for it." Cosette directed.

"Look for what?" Arrant put down his notes under her harsh gaze.

"A monolith."

"A what?"

"A device by which gods communicate their will to men. They create dreamworlds like this by twisting reality... at the price of blood."

Hylie stopped and pointed upwards. She was far less drunk at this point, but still at least a little tipsy, and the effort of pointing and looking up caused her to lose balance for a second. There was a sound like a cracking window as she fell down.

"What brings you, Dark Empress, to my domain?" A twisting, shifting voice bellowed from overhead.

Cosette looked up, along with Arrant, to see a twisting, reforming glass eye overhead, looking both inward and outward and in every direction at once. The surreal sight caused Arrant to turn away and vomit with nausea. Cosette too could hardly bear to look at it for too long.

"We have been waiting a dear time for such opportunity." The voice became high and then low and then strained and then full. "Why do you oppose us in our struggle to enlighten and save mankind? I cannot fathom. But alas, as an enemy, it's necessary that I destroy you now."

"No long-winded speeches first?" Cosette looked disappointed. "I was hoping you might babble on about how and why you're here in America."

"It is not our nature to reveal secrets--we create our own truth in the darkness between mind and madness." The voice answered. "Now... be undone!" As the final wheezing cry of the voice rang out, the world seemed to leap forward, like a gigantic trap, closing around them on all sides. Hylie, suddenly alert at the rush of battle, stood at attention and held her hands slightly apart, then clapped them together in a single, cataclysmic motion. From her hands spread a wave of destructive energy, washing like a shield around Cosette and Arrant.

The ground around them split apart into paper-thin razors of glass, and thrust itself forward as a thousand deadly weapons, all intent to strike into Cosette's heart. As each sliver of shrapnel collided with Hylie's barrier, it disintegrated into nothing. Cosette, safe for now, raised her hands to summon a swarm of black and blue wisps of light. At her command, each of these flashed upward in a column of light, striking into the glass eye above. As each flash struck the monolith, however, it was twisted and deflected away. The empress tried one spell, then another. Her magics seemed to be ineffective against the creature.

"Did the man who taught you this spell tell how to stop it?" Cosette shouted to Arrant, over the den of exploding glass. Hylie's sphere of protection around them was slowly growing smaller under the endless assault.

"Eh? He only theorized that it could be done... but then there was that other section..." Arrant flipped hurriedly through his notes, stumbling once and cursing as he tore a page on accident. Finally he came to the page he was looking for, and placed his notes on the ground before him and fumbled through his jacket. Taking out various bells, religious symbols, and even a small handheld hide drum, he arranged the objects before himself and looked at his hands for a moment. "But it requires four people to play all the instruments--and they need training..."

"What!?" Cosette cursed American magic violently and silently.

"Gruphul!" Hylie shouted,all the while maintaining concentration on her destructive field. With a loud *pop* a small demon flopped from the air beside Hylie onto its large ears. The little green Mourner had three smaller mouths to accompany his large one.

"Wha!" Arrant fell back at the sight of it. Gruphul stood on his one leg. From the tips of his alert ears to the base of his crow's foot leg, he must have been as tall as the man sitting down.

"It sings. Teach it the song." Cosette urged, looking with worry at the enclosing danger.

"A... alright..." Arrant held up the piece of paper, and pointed to each of the instruments. Gruphul's mouths broke into four wide smiles, as the demon belted out a hideously loud rendition of the song, complete with vocals. The air seemed to split with volume.

"Ahhhh!" Cosette and Arrant both had to clap hands over their ears. However, their shouts were nothing compared to the screech of the monolith overhead. With a horrendous grinding noise, it stopped twisting, and became a rigid, flat plane.

"So, you show your moment of weakness!" Hylie grinne, dropping her shield and leaping into the air, one fist outstretched in a strike that rivaled the incoming shards of the world for speed. Hylie flew. Razors of glass blazed towards Cosette, Arrant, and the still-singing Gruphul. She was inches from delivering the final blow. Now the glass pressed ever so slightly against Cosette's cheek.

And in a terrific crash, the entire world shattered.

The four of them sat in a heap in the center of the empty chapel, now returned to its mundane state. The great glass window above was now empty. With as sound like the faintest scream, Cosette thought she saw the figures of the man, woman, and being overhead fade from its panes, to be replaced with a traditional biblical image of some sort. From the air overhead, a little flickering light fluttered down, finally landing in her outstretched palm.

It was a lens, or some sort of eyeglass--probably cut for a magnifying glass--that bent and twisted the light oddly. As she looked into it, Cosette thought that for a flash of a second she caught a strange eye looking back upon her. She wrapped the piece in a handkerchief and secreted it away.

"Are we still alive?" Arrant peeked through the fingers covering his eyes, then removed his hands to gaze at the chapel as a whole.

"It's late. The society is already gone..." Cosette mused. "But I don't think we should worry about anymore murders."

Arrant was not consoled. Instead, he was looking at the pieces of paper which had been retrieved from Derrick's apartment. "I still can't believe... my God, what have I done? I helped release a monster!"

Cosette shook her head, and turned away from him. "There is a reason we humans were not all given the great powers and responsibilities of magic. That monster was a creature born from Derrick's own inordinate love. It was when he was willing to take another's life for the sake of his own lust that it was born into the world." Cosette clutched the glass tightly in her hand. "That monster found its way out in the window, but it had always lived inside his soul."

I've only heard/read old stories (the kind Native Americans would tell to their children), so I wouldn't say that I have an extensive study in the thing. Would you like to see more of that sort of magic in the coming chapters?

By my research/hearsay, most native rituals involve song, dance, etc. Versus the more structured spells of European magics. Of course, American monsters are much more corporeal than European ghosts and evil spirits, so the demon killings should probably increase, if nothing else. Then again, I have to limit the amount of research time I spend on each chapter, or else I'll never actually get the writing done ^_^;;

Another way to mix things up at this point would be to focus more on the everyday lives of the characters, rather than their affairs in the world at large. Anyway, that's what I like about this standalone chapter-a-week format. One week is a mystery, the next an action-adventure, the next a story about daily life. I'm never compelled to write any certain kind of story. It's a good feeling.

Rozalina... well, the best guess at present would be to look back on what Knale says in chapter 16 about the subject... but who can say really?

Thanks for reading. I'll try to have this week's chapter up by sometime tomorrow.

Read it yesterday. Loved it. Watch your quotation marks and commas during and immediately after dialogue.

My favorite part of this whole chapter was that little shadow of regret that Cosette has about the nature of American magic versus her own European magic. She's truly something else, this little empress you've written of.

Oh, and is this Arrant character going to be--perhaps--one of Cosette's potential "lovers" as Malgrave calls them? Certainly there is some...potential, here.
-LD

gees i fell behind sweatdrop , sorry kk, i'll try to catch up and give you feedback, and that's not so uncommon of an age gap, my mom is 49 and my dad is 55, so 6 years, but i've heard of even larger age gaps.

Actually, not only did Narshe's words feel very natural, but the situation it created was entertaining besides. A very good plot device, if you ask me.

And I hope Cosette gets her hands dirty in this "Wild" magic. What a hybrid that would be....
-LD

Interesting....
-LD